


Everything Will Be Fines

by BrandonStrayne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Crack, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Childbirth, Community: ThePen15isMightier, Crack Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Death in Childbirth, F/M, Family Reunions, Family Secrets, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Parent-Child Relationship, Rainforests, Severitus | Severus Snape is Harry Potter's Parent, Slytherin Harry Potter, Succubi & Incubi, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-24 05:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18564469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrandonStrayne/pseuds/BrandonStrayne
Summary: When Harry comes of age, he is plagued with an increasingly pervasive malaise that he just can't shake. One of Hogwarts' new professors holds the answers to his problems, but his life will never be the same again.





	Everything Will Be Fines

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for the Pen15 is Mightier "Are You on Trope? Challenge". The challenge goal was to pick a popular fanfiction trope and write a story focused on it. I had recently stumbled across the [Severitus Challenge](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Severitus_\(trope\)) and thought it would be fun to tackle. And then, because I found it really funny, I thought it would also be fun to make it a meta tag and also pair Severus with Titus Andromedon from Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt. This probably could have been stronger if I had expanded on it, but it was really only supposed to be a silly crack fic. Maybe if there's a huge demand for more (which I seriously doubt) I will continue it, lol.
> 
> A note on canon divergence: Where canon zigged, I zagged. In this story, that whole Voldemort chap never happened and much has changed. The MCD warning does refer to a character that also died in canon, but they die differently here (tags added for warning). I also played a little fast and loose with Titus's birth year (he would be closer to Harry's age, but I made him Snape's age instead.)
> 
> The goals of the Severitus Challenge are (my comments in italics):
> 
> 1\. Severus Snape must be revealed to be Harry's father (no..not James, though that would be interesting......MWAHAHA!!!) _(Check.)_
> 
> 2\. Remus Lupin must have returned to Hogwarts for some reason or another (unless it's a 3rd year AU, in which case he's already there.heh) _(Briefly, but he does return, so I'm considering this accomplished. Check.)_
> 
> 3\. Harry must undergo some progressive physical change starting on his birthday. No *tada!* and suddenly he looks like Snape, at first anyway. _(Check.)_
> 
> 4\. The story must be based mostly around Harry and Snape _(Okay, I kind of played a little loosely on this one, but considering my instinct is to not include Snape at all, I would say this does have a fair amount of Snape in it. It's definitely not a full focus on Drarry, so I am counting this condition as met.)_
> 
> 5\. (optional) if you want, feel free to take one of the conversations I've got posted here. Change 'em however you want, they're mere clutter on my harddrive right now, and I hereby bequeath them to you. _(I chose to ignore this one because I couldn't find what this was in reference to.)_
> 
> 6\. Make note somewhere that it's in response to this challenge, so all the other nice people can give it a shot too, if they want, or be able to find the other challenge responses. _(Check.)_
> 
> 7\. PLEASE LET ME KNOW! I WANNA READ 'EM! Feel free to either email me or let me know in a review. _(Severitus doesn't appear to be online anymore, so I am not going out of my way to track this person down when, for all I know, they don't care about this challenge anymore.)_
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, this "shouldn't be much more than 3k" crack fic idea ended up turning into a 12k story that was heavy on the angst. What are you going to do? These stories have a life of their own!
> 
> Title is an homage to one of the (many) legendary Titus Andromedon quotes, "As long as it rhymes, everything will be fines."
> 
> I would like to give my sincere thanks to my betas [Drarryismymuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatchersn/pseuds/Drarryismymuse), [OllieMaye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OllieMaye/pseuds/OllieMaye), and [Keep_Calm_And_Expecto_Patronum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keep_Calm_And_Expecto_Patronum) for cheering me on and being so excited to read this story and help me clean it up. Any remaining mistakes are my own.

“Are you okay, Mate? You look a little...green.”

Harry groaned and rested his head back against the seat, too exhausted to even answer Ron’s concerned question.

“You really do look quite unwell, Harry. I think, perhaps, you should go see Madam Pomfrey as soon as we arrive?” Hermione added as she reached across the narrow compartment to hold her hand against his forehead.

Harry could only muster enough energy to grunt in response. For the past month, ever since his 17th birthday party, he had felt—not to be crass—like shit on a stick. He spent the nights tossing and turning, unable to sleep as he was hounded with a persistent feeling of...something. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was forgetting something, or that something had gone missing. His dad had been watching him closely and though he tried to hide it, Harry could read the worry that was etched into his face.

Hermione and Ron seemed to realise that he didn’t have any interest in talking about it, so they spoke together in low voices as Harry kept his eyes shut and focused on settling his somersaulting stomach. The train was just starting to pick up speed when the compartment door clanged open and a soothing feeling of calm washed over him. His eyes shot open in surprise at the sudden absence of malaise, for the first time in a month he felt almost...normal.

“Here you all are. I’ve been through at least half of these compartments looking for you lot. I walked in on Neville and Ginny practically in flagrante delicto and I think I may need someone to Obliviate that memory out of me.”

“Wait, what were Neville and my sister doing?” Ron asked, sounding alarmed at Draco’s dramatic entrance.

“If you have to ask, then I guess you and Granger are still at the chaste kisses and hand-holding stage of your budding romance.”

“Ron, wait! She’s sixteen! She can snog anyone she wants!” Hermione called after Ron, who had stormed out of the cabin in search of his sister and her paramour. Before she slid the door of the compartment closed and chased after Ron, she snapped at Draco, “You’re such a prat sometimes, Malfoy!”

“He’s so gullible. The girl Weasley is playing exploding snap with Lovegood and the Patil twins in the first compartment,” Draco said with a mischievous grin as he sat down on the bench that Ron and Hermione had just vacated. “Merlin, Lupin! You look like a pile of crup crap!”

Draco switched over to sit beside Harry on his bench and held the back of his hand to Harry’s forehead. The nagging exhaustion and nausea that he’d become so used to receded even further with the touch and before Harry could realise it, he was swaying towards Draco, trying to get closer to the man whose touch soothed him like a balm.

“Whoa there.” Draco grabbed his shoulder and held him upright and Harry shook his head, trying to clear the fog of confusion that had seeped in since Draco had entered the compartment. “Here, why don’t you lay down?”

Draco began to stand up, obviously planning on offering Harry full use of the bench, but Harry wrapped his arm around Draco’s stomach. “No, please...stay here?”

Harry implored Draco with his eyes and Draco eyed him wearily but eventually conceded. Conjuring a stiff, dense pillow—just like Harry preferred them—Draco laid it across his lap and slid further down the bench before gesturing that Harry should lie down.

Grateful, Harry placed his head on the pillow on Draco’s lap and felt sleep immediately begin to threaten. “Play with my hair?” Harry just barely managed to mumble, already feeling more relaxed than he could ever remember feeling.

A grumbled, “What am I? Your boyfriend?” wafted down to his ear, but Draco’s deft fingers began stroking through his long hair and Harry, finally, drifted off into a deep sleep.

***

“I know that everyone’s sugar rush must be wearing off right about now and you’ll be wanting to start eating, but I hope that you’ll offer me a few moments of your time before we all tuck in.” Dumbledore settled his hands on either side of the phoenix-fronted podium and eyed each of the four long tables that spread down the length of the Great Hall, waiting for the excited murmur of voices to die down.

“As some of you may know, our former Muggle Studies professor has decided to take a sabbatical to study up for an upcoming appearance on a Muggle telly program, and the entire staff wish her luck in her quest to become a ‘millionaire’.

“In addition to Professor Burbage’s departure, it is also my sad duty to inform you that our Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Longbottom, has decided to pursue his advanced studies and will be writing his thesis on the cockatrice. Given that the cockatrice’s mere glance can bring death, it was suggested by the school’s Governors that perhaps it would be best if he does not carry out this research on the school grounds, so he, too, will be taking a sabbatical.”

“Gee, you think? I swear, if it were up to that old coot, this place would be crawling with hellhounds and he’d have centaurs teaching us Divination,” Draco griped from beside him at their spot midway down the Slytherin table, pulling a snort of laughter from Harry that he unconvincingly tried to cover up with a cough when several members of Ravenclaw cast dirty glances at them from the next table over.

Dumbledore continued his start of term speech from the staff dais. “Fortunately, we have found two new members of staff to fill these positions. Professor Snape,” Dumbledore gestured down the staff table to his left and an angry-looking man with long, dark hair that was pulled back into a ponytail that hung over his left shoulder stood up slightly and offered a slight bowing gesture to the student body, “has agreed to act as our Defence Against the Dark Arts instructor for this upcoming school year. So, please, everyone welcome Professor Snape.”

A round of applause filled the echoing hall as the man took his seat, looking uncomfortable at all of the attention.

“Look at the hair on him,” Draco leaned over and whispered in Harry’s ear. “He’s going to have all the witches trying to slip him a love potion all year. He looks like one of the men from the covers of those Muggle romance novels.”

Harry supposed he could be considered attractive, but he definitely wasn’t Harry’s type—his type was definitely more blonde and the archetype of which happened to be sitting so close that Harry could feel his warmth all up and down his side. Harry shook himself away from that well-trodden mental path and refocused on their batty, old Headmaster’s speech.

“We are also going to be trying something new this year, and have invited Professor Andromedon to take over the subject of Muggle Studies. Mr Andromedon comes to us all the way from America and is the first Muggle to hold a teaching position within our esteemed school.”

The room erupted in a cacophony of gasps and hushed whispers as the students reacted to the news that one of their new faculty was not a wizard.

“I know that this will come as a surprise to many of you, but Professor Andromedon has the unanimous support of the rest of the staff here as well as the Governors of the school,” Dumbledore assured them in a calm voice.

Draco snorted beside him. “Somehow I doubt it was unanimous. My bore of a father would rather go Christmas shopping in Diagon Alley starkers than to socialise with a Muggle.”

“Remind me to do all my Christmas shopping in Hogsmeade this year, then,” Harry said slyly. Harry felt an answering grin soften his face when Draco let out a little snort and the corner of his eyes crinkled up in amusement. Harry froze when Draco slapped him lightly on the thigh and a feeling of etherealness washed through his whole body, making him feel as if he was in danger of floating away at any moment.

Draco’s face shifted and he gave Harry an odd, assessing look and Harry realised that he must be broadcasting all of his feelings of adoration for Draco as if his face was a bulletin board in the middle of Piccadilly Circus and he focused on getting his facial muscles back under his control. “You’re acting very strange lately,” Draco remarked.

Draco pulled his hand back and Harry wanted to collapse onto the table in disappointment. “That’s the potion calling the cauldron black,” Harry retorted as he tried to get a muzzle on his wildly fluctuating emotional status.

“Would you two shut it? We’re trying to hear,” a cranky Ravenclaw witch snapped from behind them. Draco swivelled around on the bench and stuck his tongue at her, blowing a raspberry. “What are you? Eleven?” she said as she rolled her eyes and turned back towards the front of the Great Hall.

“Yeah, I am, eleven centimetres,” Draco retorted as he made a lewd gesture.

The Ravenclaw witch started giggling and leaned over to whisper in her friend’s ear, who also began giggling while throwing covert glances in Draco’s direction.

“Uh, D...I think you meant inches, not centimetres,” Harry said nervously.

“What? Bugger! Silly Muggles! Why can’t they just make up their minds and stick to one unit of measurement!” Draco’s face began to change colour as he realised his mistake and he cleared his throat and made a point of avoiding Harry’s eyes. “Shhh. I’m trying to listen.”

Harry chuckled to himself and let the matter drop. Judging by the gleam in the Ravenclaw’s eyes, Draco’s powers of conscious denial would be useful over the next few days.

Harry and Draco turned their attention back to the staff table where their new Muggle Studies professor was still talking, “Those robes are sooooo unflattering, like goth potato sacks.”

Professor Andromedon stood up then and struck a series of modelling poses. In place of a robe, he was wearing pants and a jacket made out of a shimmery purple material with a cheetah print V-neck, tight-fitting shirt on under the jacket. He had a grey fedora on his head and a long, narrow, silver scarf wrapped around his neck with one end thrown over his right shoulder. If Harry didn’t already know that he was a Muggle, he would assume he was a wizard given the unusual outfit.

“Y’all look like you’re about to break into a church hymn. And the only reason for this many people to say hallelujah is when Madonna finally releases her next album.” A few laughs arose from the various tables, but for the most part, everyone looked confused.

“Madonna?” Draco asked in a low verse.

“She’s a popular Muggle musician,” Harry explained.

“Like Celestina Warbeck?”

“Sort of, only she wears a cone bra and talks about sex a lot.” Harry laughed at Draco’s perplexed expression.

“Yes, well...thank you Professor Andromedon,” Headmaster Dumbledore said as Professor Andromedon took a seat once more. Professor Snape seemed to know the other new professor, as he laid his arm across the back of Professor Andromedon’s chair and leaned over, whispering something in the other man’s ear which earned him a small smile. “I think we’re all intrigued to see what topics you’ll be presenting in Muggle Studies this year.”

Harry thought that was quite a big understatement. Something told him that Muggle Studies would be, if not the most popular, certainly the most interesting course.

“And now, I will leave you with a few words of advice before we dig into this delicious feast that the Hogwarts house elves have prepared for us all: The pickle flies at midnight.” With that cryptic statement, the Headmaster took his seat and began filling his plate with a heaping pile of Shepherd’s Pie. After a brief, confused pause, the other occupants of the Great Hall followed suit and soon the cavernous room was filled with the cacophony of clattering cutlery and the excited chatter of the students.

“I see Dumbledore is just as barmy as ever,” Draco observed dryly as he held his plate out for Harry to place several pieces of fried chicken on it.

“What do you think of the new professors?” Harry asked as he leaned back and let Draco pick out the radishes from his salad to place them on his own plate.

“Hard to say without having had a class yet.” Draco shrugged and handed Harry a glass of ice cold pumpkin juice without having to be asked. “Why? What do you think of them?”

Harry’s eyes shot to the front of the room once more and watched the two new additions to the staff. Professor Snape was turned, making conversation with Professor Trelawney, and Harry watched as the daffy Divination professor placed her hand over Professor Snape’s as he reached in front of her for the salt shaker. The man tensed up and quickly drew back his hand before leaning away from her and towards Professor Andromedon to his left. Professor Andromedon leaned in front of Snape and jumped into the conversation with Trelawney and Harry watched as Professor Snape seemed to relax when Andromedon placed his hand on the other man’s shoulder.

“I think maybe Snape and Andromedon know each other,” Harry said slowly, not quite sure whether he was reading their body language correctly.

Draco turned a scrutinising gaze to the two professors for a few moments and then nodded his head. “I’d bet half the galleons in my trust fund that they’re fucking.”

Harry coughed and sputtered and a dribble of pumpkin juice came out of his nose, earning him an amused grin from his blonde best friend. “What the hell, D?! What makes you think that?”

Draco’s eyebrows drew together in thought while he watched the two professors. “Look at the way they’re always touching each other: a hand on the shoulder, or leaning in so that their sides graze together.”

Harry felt a rush of warmth shoot up his neck as he suddenly became aware of how close he and Draco were sitting. He could feel where their knees brushed together under the table as they both sat with their legs slightly spread.

“And look at the way that Snape is looking at Andromedon. He looks like a lovesick puppy.” Draco’s head suddenly swung back around and a medley of looks flitted across his face before it settled into a small smirk. “Are you even listening to me, Lupin?”

“Huh? What? Of course I am!” Harry spluttered out as he realised that he actually hadn’t been listening to what Draco was saying and had instead been thinking about how soft Draco’s hair looked from behind and how he wondered what it would smell like.

“You are utterly ridiculous sometimes, do you know that?”

Harry didn’t think that Draco was actually looking for an answer, so instead, he just turned his attention back to his plate and tucked into the delicious feast. He couldn't help himself though, and he reached out and knocked Draco’s side with his elbow, which earned him a small snort of laughter and a rush of warmth as Draco shuffled just a tiny bit closer to him on the bench.

***

The school year quickly unspooled and before they knew it, it was the first week of November and the first Quidditch match of the year was scheduled for this weekend: Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin.

Harry’s health had been steadily declining and some days he felt more like a zombie than a living being. He stumbled around the school in a foggy daze and, never an optimal student to begin with, his school performance was bordering on Troll grades since he so often found himself falling asleep during class. It was really only the classes that he shared with Draco that he was able to rally himself and stay awake. Even then, he had been relying pretty heavily on his friends’ notes for all of his classes; Draco and Hermione’s were superb and highly detailed, with organized bullet points and an Indexing Spell that allowed him to easily find earlier mentions of topics from previous lectures. Ron’s notes left something to be desired, but fortunately, Professor Hagrid wasn’t big on written notes and most of those lessons involved hands-on interactions with various magical creatures. One thing that proved effective at keeping him awake during a lesson was the threat of a Blast-Ended Skrewt going off in his face.

“Would you please stop moping?” Draco complained, his tone grating with his irritation at Harry.

“I’m not moping,” Harry moped. Draco rolled his eyes.

“Don’t you think that if I could be here I would be? It’s not like I had any say in setting the date for the wedding.” Draco cut a tiny triangle of toast off of the slice on his plate and lifted it to his mouth with a fork. Harry had long since become accustomed to Draco’s finicky eating habits and it didn’t even register as strange to him anymore.

“I know,” Harry sighed. He didn’t know why he was in such a strop about the fact that Draco was going to miss their first Quidditch game. It’s not like he was leaving them short-handed: Astoria Greengrass, a fifth-year Slytherin girl, was a back-up Keeper for the team and was filling in for Draco while he was away. It was just that this would be the first time that they hadn’t played together since they’d both finally made the Slytherin Quidditch team in their fourth year. After three years of unsuccessful—and dreadfully embarrassing—failed tryouts, they spent the entire summer before their fourth year practising the basics and running drills over the Malfoys’ Wiltshire estate. His dad had complained that Harry had spent so much time over at Draco’s that summer that he had almost started to forget what Harry looked like.

Harry made a conscious effort to shake off his black mood and pasted a fragile smile on his face. “You look really...nice, by the way.”

That was an understatement. Draco had waved Harry off to go down to breakfast without him claiming that he needed extra time to get into his dress robes. When he had emerged at the door of the Great Hall twenty minutes later, Harry’s jaw had dropped so far that a piece of sausage that he had just taken a bite of had fallen out of his mouth and rolled off his plate and across the table.

Draco’s dress robes seemed to shimmer with his movements, the silver threads almost seeming to luminesce as they waved with his movements. The effect reminded Harry of mercury that was used in Muggle thermometers. Harry was too far away to know for sure, but he was confident that the colour would perfectly compliment his beautiful grey eyes.

Draco’s long hair had been pulled back into a low ponytail that sat at the base of his neck, but he had several small braids hidden amongst the others, and one long braid hung down from his left temple and hanging down past his chin to where it was tied off with a black ribbon.

Harry’s stupefaction was quickly replaced with annoyance as he finally managed to tear his gaze away from Draco to notice that he wasn’t the only one that was appreciating the fine figure that Draco made. It seemed to Harry that every single female head (not to mention quite a few male ones) were turned towards the door and raking over Draco’s outfit and Harry felt a surge of jealousy take root.

As he sat immobile in his seat trying to process the implications of his emotions, Draco caught his eye. Draco’s face lit up, then looked confused, then began to show the faintest tinge of blush and Harry wondered what thought had occurred to Draco to elicit such a reaction. Draco made his way over to the Slytherin table, but judging by the way he practically sashayed over, sending the billowing material of his dress robes fluttering to maximum effect, he was more than aware of the stir he’d created.

“How do I look?” he’d asked once he came up beside Harry. He performed a slow-motion rotation to give Harry the full 180° view of his outfit before facing Harry once more with a smug look on his face.

Harry coughed and cleared his throat and tried for noncommittal with a shrug of the shoulders. “You look alright, I guess.”

“Such a flatterer. My ego is never in danger of becoming Brobdingnagian with you around.” Draco shook his head and rested a hand on Harry’s shoulder, using him as support as he lifted first one, then the other leg over the bench and sat down to Harry’s left.

“Brobding...what? What the hell does that mean?” Harry asked.

“They have these wonderful inventions now. They’re called ‘dictionaries’. You should try one sometime, you laggard,” Draco replied distractedly as he scanned the three-tiered pastry tray in front of them.

“How about a trade?” Harry proposed. Pulling out the napkin-wrapped treat from the pocket of his robe, he continued, “You tell me what brobding-whatever means and, in exchange, I’ll share this almond croissant with you. That’s your favourite, right?” Harry grinned as Draco’s eyes narrowed, darting between his face and the baked good.

“It means ‘gigantic’. As in, ‘You are a Brobdingnagian wanker sometimes, Harry Lupin’,” Draco huffed as he snatched the croissant from Harry.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Harry smirked, letting out a laugh when Draco seemed to realise the inadvertent double entendre he had made and scowled.

“Lovely, that’s just what your ego needed, more inflation,” Draco muttered before taking a small bite of the treat.

“I can’t believe that you all get to weasel out of classes today,” Harry changed the subject, not wanting to needle Draco _too_ much.

“Which reminds me, make sure to pay attention and take good notes during Muggle Studies, please,” Draco requested. “I don’t want to miss anything and Hermione isn’t in that class, so I’m counting on you.”

Harry agreed nervously. It was always a bit of a surprise what their Muggle Studies class would be. Their professor had covered an....eclectic variety of topics, ranging from the class cooking and enjoying an elaborate brunch together, to having to write 6 inches on Cher’s impact on popular Muggle culture (which they’d had to deliver as an oral presentation because Professor Andromedon had declared that “grading papers is just time that would be better spent fantasising about eating carbs.”)

“What time are you leaving, then?” Harry asked.

“Right after breakfast. I’m to use Dumbledore’s Floo to travel to the Manor and then we’ll Apparate to the wedding from there,” Draco said.

“Are you going to bring me back something from Romania?” Harry asked, perking up a little.

“Oh sure. I’ll just slip into one of the dragon nests and steal one of their eggs, shall I? What am I? Suicidal?” Draco scoffed. He glanced over to find Harry making a pathetic puppy dog face at him, lower lip extended in an exaggerated pout, and he rolled his eyes. “I’ll see what I can do. Maybe I can slip away to one of the nearby villages or something.”

Harry’s pout shifted into a wide grin. “It’s pretty cool that your cousin is marrying Charlie Weasley. You and Ron are going to be related now!”

Draco gave an exaggerated shudder. “Please, DON’T remind me. It’s fortunate that old battleaxe, Walburga, has passed or else I’m sure Nymphadora would have been blasted off of the family tree by now. Bugger! I have to go!” Draco tucked his wand away as his Tempus Charm faded and he shoved the last of the almond croissant into his mouth. “See you later!” he shouted, his words muffled by the oversized bite of food in his mouth.

“Have fun!” Harry shouted back half-heartedly before stooping in his seat. He flitted his eyes up to the teacher’s table and was not at all surprised to find Professor Snape eyeing him from his spot on the far right of the table. Harry wondered what he had done to provoke the suspicions of their DADA professor, who always seemed to be scrutinising him.

Harry felt a flare of annoyance and gave the professor a cheeky wave. The man jolted as if he hadn’t realised that he was perfectly visible to Harry and Professor Andromedon laughed beside him before waving back at Harry in the style of the Queen. Harry chuckled at the strange Muggle and turned his attention back to his breakfast, running through the Quidditch plays for this weekend in his mind.

***

“Mr Lupin, if I could have a few moments of your time?”

Harry stopped packing up his book bag and looked up in surprise at Professor Snape. Hermione raised her eyebrows in a quizzical expression and then gave Harry a reassuring smile. “I’ll meet you in Potions, Harry.”

“Okay, yeah…” Harry agreed. He and Professor Snape waited in silence as the rest of the class filed out of the classroom. Finally, when the room was empty, he licked his lips and asked, “Sir?”

“I couldn’t help but notice that you were less than attentive in class just now,” the Professor said as he stood up and circled around to the front of his desk, leaned back against it, and hit Harry with one of those patented stares he had been serving out to Harry all semester.

“I’m sorry about that, sir. I just...I haven’t been feeling well lately, is all,” Harry tried to explain feebly.

“Is that so?” Professor Snape seemed to lean forward as if Harry had said something interesting. “In what way?”

“Oh. Um…” Harry hadn’t known what to expect when Professor Snape had asked him to stay behind, but this definitely wouldn’t have been his first guess. Snape was looking at him expectantly and Harry continued nervously, “Well I’ve been tired a lot, but I’ve also been having trouble sleeping. And I get headaches.”

“I see. And when did these symptoms start presenting themselves?”

“Ummm...probably...around my birthday?” Harry guessed, trying to think back to when this had all begun. It felt like it had been going on for years, and Harry almost couldn’t believe that it had only been a handful of months.

“What did you do for your birthday?” Snape asked.

“Sir?” Harry wasn’t sure why his Professor would care what a seventeen-year-old student did to celebrate his coming of age.

Snape rubbed his hand over his face in a weary expression. “I know this seems like an odd line of inquiry, but I assure you, I have a reason for asking.”

Harry eyed the man suspiciously for a few moments, trying to figure out if he was getting himself into trouble somehow without realising it. Unable to detect any sort of trap, Harry reluctantly answered, “Umm...not much really. I had a few friends over for a barbecue and we watched a film.”

Harry thought it prudent to leave out the part where Ron had snuck a bottle of Firewhisky from his dad’s liquor cabinet and they had all ended up playing strip poker in his basement while his dad had watched telly upstairs.

“Was Mr Malfoy in attendance that evening?” Snape asked. He seemed to be trying to sound casual, but Harry could sense a current of keen interest underneath the question.

“Is that a problem, sir?” Harry asked, suspicions peaking once more.

Snape gave him a small smirk. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

“Am I in trouble, sir?”

Snape’s face softened and it looked like he was about to say something when the door of the classroom slammed open.

“Mercy! These children are needier than my pet ferret was, and not nearly as cute!” Professor Andromedon swept dramatically into the room with his hand over his forehead and his head tilted back as if the weight of the world was too much to bear. “OH! Hello, Harry! I didn't know you were in here. I didn’t mean you, of course. You’re just as cute as my ferret was.”

Harry grinned widely at the dramatic man. “Thank you, sir.”

Professor Andromedon bustled to the front of the classroom and Snape smiled at him. “I didn’t forget our lunch plans, Titus. I was just having a chat with Mr Lupin here.”

“I should hope not!” Titus proclaimed. Reaching up, he slid the hair elastic holding Professor Snape’s hair back and ran his fingers through it, bringing it forward to hang down over his ears. “It’s a _crime_ that you ever wear this back, don’t you think so, Harry?”

“Um…” Harry wasn’t sure what to say to that, but fortunately, Andromedon didn’t seem to actually be looking for an answer.

“This hair should be blowing behind you as a bracing breeze sends a mist of sea spray over you while you wear a billowing white shirt and hold a beauty in your arms.” Andromedon tossed one arm over Snape’s shoulder and collapsed backwards, Professor Snape catching him in his arms.

“Titus, we’re supposed to be acting like professionals,” Snape chastised, but without any heat to it, laughing at the other man’s dramatics.

“That hair is wasted on you, Sev,” Andromedon huffed. Standing up, he pulled one side of Snape’s hair over his own bald head. “We should shave your head and have a wig made for me. I have the flair to do these gorgeous locks justice, don’t I, Harry?”

Harry stood there with his mouth agape, unsure what to say and his exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

Snape bent his head to the side, reclaiming said gorgeous locks from the other Professor before pushing the long strands behind his ears and out of his face, though he refrained from tying it back once more. “You should hurry along to your next class now, Harry. Please tell Professor Alembic that I held you back after class and if she has concerns, she can speak to me about it.”

“Yes, sir, I will.” Harry threw the strap of his book bag over his shoulder and moved to the door. He stole a quick glance back to see the two Professors talking together in low voices, heads close together. As he watched, Professor Snape reached up and ran a fingertip down Professor Andromedon’s temple and around his jaw. Harry paused for a moment, watching the obvious affection between the two men and the bone-deep fatigue came rushing back on him. Sighing, he slipped away and trudged slowly down to the dungeons towards his Potions class.

***

Harry flew a loop of the Quidditch pitch, scanning the area for a flicker of colour that would belie the location of the Snitch. Coming up empty, he halted in mid-air for a minute and renewed the _Impervius Charm_ on his glasses again. The skies had opened up about forty-five minutes ago and there had been an unending sheet of rain pouring down on them since then. The Snitch, already difficult to find under ideal circumstances, was proving even more elusive in this inclement weather. With heavy, ominous clouds covering the sun, there was nothing to reflect off of the Snitch’s metal and now it was like searching for a needle in a haystack.

Harry was just about to begin another—no doubt—fruitless pass of the Stadium when a wave of dizziness swept over him. Clutching desperately onto the handle of his broom, he tried to hold himself steady as the world seemed to flip and rotate around him. The fit faded away as quickly as it had appeared and Harry brought one hand to his head, pushing his glasses up as he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

He chanced a glance around the Stadium but no one seemed to have noticed, with the exception of three people. His dad was staring up at him from the nearest grandstand with a nervous fist in front of his mouth. Beside him, Professor Snape and Professor Andromedon were watching him as well. Snape’s eyebrows were drawn together in an intense expression and Professor Andromedon was alternating between nervous glances up at him, about twenty metres above them, and burying his face into Professor Snape’s shoulder.

“Are you just planning on sitting there with your thumb up your arse all day? Or are you actually going to make an attempt to catch the fucking Snitch?!” Blaise Zabini, the team captain and fellow seventh year, barked at him as he buzzed past with a Quaffle in hand.

Harry shook himself and darted off to the opposite side of the Stadium, resuming his search for the tiny ball. After twenty more minutes, he was just about to drop down and do a pass closer to the ground when the Hufflepuff Seeker, a fourth year brunette by the name of Casper Maloon, fired off towards the Hufflepuff rings and Harry went in pursuit.

He had just managed to catch up and the two were barreling towards the Snitch, which Harry could now see was flitting around the middle hoop, when another dizzy spell came over him. Not thinking, Harry lurched backwards, taking his broom handle with him and sending himself spiralling backwards through the air. Even through the spinning dizziness, Harry could feel the brisk rush of wind pushing against him as he plummeted toward the ground.

The last thing he registered before everything went black and he lost consciousness was two shouting voices.

***

“You should have told me that he was displaying symptoms! I would have had a chance to figure out a way to tell him about all of this somehow!”

Harry slowly drifted back to consciousness at the sound of his father’s angry voice. He didn’t open his eyes or move a muscle, not wanting to give away the fact that he was awake and miss the opportunity to find out what his father had apparently been hiding from him.

“I wasn’t sure he was,” the cool, low voice of his DADA professor came in response and Harry had to force his face to relax. “He’s hardly the only teenage boy to ever fall asleep in class. There’s hardly a night goes by that some student isn’t up half the night sneaking around the castle.”

“That’s bullshit!” Lupin burst out and Harry was shocked to hear the burning anger in his father’s voice. He was usually so mild-mannered and calm and Harry had a plunging feeling of nervousness because whatever was going on must be _really_ bad to make him sound that irate. “You should have informed me as soon as you had any suspicions! You haven’t been here! You don’t get to make those kinds of decisions about his well-being. I...am his father.”

His dad’s voice trailed off and Harry thought he could hear him sobbing quietly. Harry shifted in the bed, letting them think that he was just now waking up.

“Harry? Harry, are you awake?” Harry heard the relief in his dad’s voice as he rushed over and took Harry’s hand in his own.

Harry’s eyes fluttered open. “Wha….what happened?” His dad had taken a seat beside his bed on his right and was watching him nervously, his eyes darting over every inch of Harry’s face.

“Thank Merlin!” Remus dropped his head down to the bed beside Harry as he clutched his hand closer. “I thought I had lost you!” Remus looked up once more, his eyes swimming with tears as a relieved smile broke out across his face.

“What happened? Where am I?” Harry looked around the room and realised that he was in the Hospital Wing, his bed cordoned off from the rest of the room by three fabric dividers. “The last thing I remember was chasing after the Snitch and...falling?”

“Yes, can you tell us exactly what you remember from the game, Harry?” Professor Snape took an awkward step forward and stood on the other side of his bed, near his feet.

Harry drew a confused look at his dad, but when he nodded encouragingly, Harry licked his lips and scraped through his memory of the game. “I had been feeling a bit dizzy. I had one bout earlier on, but it passed after a few seconds and I thought it was just a fluke or something. But then when we were chasing the Snitch, an even bigger bout of it came on and...I must have fallen off my broom?” Harry finished.

Professor Snape nodded and his dad encouraged, “That’s right. Fortunately, we were able to cast a couple of Cushioning Charms that were strong enough to stop your fall.”

“I need to get ba—” Harry began to push himself up off of the bed but his dad rushed to press him back down. It wasn’t really required, because just sitting up seemed to have sapped all of Harry’s energy and he settled back onto the stacked pillows with a sigh.

“You have to rest now, son. The game is over already...Hufflepuff won,” Remus added on reluctantly. “It’s fine though! Nobody blames you!”

Harry gave Remus a dubious look, and he chuckled before adding, “Well, they’ll get over it, anyway. They’ll just be glad that you’re okay.”

“How are you feeling now, Harry?” They both turned towards Professor Snape, who was standing stiffly with his arms held behind his back.

Harry took a mental inventory of his body. He didn’t seem to have any broken bones or anything, but he felt as if he was being weighed down, his hand collapsing back onto the mattress when he lifted it exploratively. A dull ache throbbed underneath his temples and, despite obviously just waking up, his eyes were heavy, encouraging him to take another long sleep. He related all of this to his Professor.

Snape and his dad exchanged a loaded look that Harry didn’t even know where to begin to interpret. “What? It’s just the flu or something, isn’t it?” His gaze flicked between the two men, whose stony silences were beginning to worry him. Finally, after long moments of silence, Harry lost his patience and shouted, “I’d have to be completely daft to not notice that you’re hiding something from me, so would you just spit it out already!”

“Harry? Merlin, what’s happened to you?” The two men startled and turned around as Ron, with Hermione beside him, rounded the edge of the privacy curtain and strode over to the edge of Harry’s bed, opposite Remus. “You look like you’re about to vomit up slugs or something.”

“Ronald Weasley! That’s so rude, he’s—oh dear. Harry, you really do look very peaky,” she looked concerned as she took in Harry’s pallid complexion.

Harry pushed himself up so that he was reclined in more of a seated position and smiled, happy to see his friends. “What are you guys doing here? You’re supposed to be at the wedding.”

“We got that Patronus and of course we came right back. Charlie and Tonks totally understood,” Ron assured him. “Fred and George are pretty put-out with you though. Now they’ve been assigned to Aunt Muriel duty since I’m not there.” Ron and Harry laughed as Hermione shot them both a disapproving scowl.

Harry could see Professor Snape watching them closely from where he was still standing off to the side, but Harry didn’t care, too happy that his friends were quick to come to his side when he fell ill.

“You just can’t handle being left out of anything, can you, Lupin?” They all turned to see Draco standing next to the bar on the privacy curtain. He had donned a nonchalant posture, appearing to lean against the barricade, but Harry could read the tension in the set of his mouth that belied how disturbed he actually was.

“Draco,” Harry sighed, and it was like he could feel the weight lifting away, like stones transfigured into feathers in the flash of an eye and a swish of the wand.

“As I expected,” Snape mumbled, and Remus’s eyebrows drew together for a moment before his head swivelled to look at first Harry and then Draco.

“Ron, Hermione, thank you so much for coming on such short notice,” Remus stood up and circled the bed, wrapping his arms around them, one hand on each of their shoulders, “but we have something very important that we need to talk to Harry about right now. I think it will be for the best if you head back to the wedding.”

“Oh, umm...well if you think that’s best…” Hermione looked back at Harry uncertainly and he nodded encouragingly at her.

“I’ll just take Hermione and Ron to see the Headmaster. I’m sure he will be able to get them back to the wedding. Severus, you’ll hold off until I get back?” Severus nodded and Remus gave his son a reassuring smile before escorting the two friends towards the door to the Hospital Wing.

“Mr Malfoy, if you could stay, please.” Draco looked surprised at Professor Snape’s request as he was about to follow them out and shot Harry a confused look, to which Harry could only shrug. “Please, take a seat, Mr Malfoy.” Snape indicated the chair beside the bed that Remus had now vacated.

Draco eyed their professor suspiciously as he slowly made his way over to the chair and sat down beside Harry. Harry took a deep breath and sat up further, his muscles feeling restored and no longer as if he’d just run two back-to-back marathons.

“What’s this about, Harry?” Draco hissed under his breath as he continued to eye the Professor wearily.

“I really have no clue,” Harry whispered back. “But I told you that Snape’s been acting weird around me all year.”

“Professor, what’s this all about?” Draco asked in a tone that contained a nearly even blend of nervousness and disdain.

Snape didn’t answer the question, instead, he turned his analytical gaze towards Harry. “How do you feel now, Harry?”

Harry was about to snipe back that obviously nothing had changed in the last ten minutes when he stopped and took stock of himself. Actually...his muscles weren’t aching nearly so much, his headache seemed to be disappearing, and he didn’t feel like he was about to fall asleep on the spot. “I’m...well, I’m a little better actually.”

“That’s what I feared,” Snape began pacing the small distance, back and forth across the foot of the bed, while Harry and Draco exchanged perplexed looks and watched the Professor warily.

“Please, Professor, can you _please_ just tell me what this is all about?” Harry pleaded.

Snape stopped his pacing, leaning against the footboard of the bed, and sighed. “I’ll explain it all to you—to both of you—just as soon as Remus gets back.”

“But you could ju—” Harry began.

“We’ll wait for Remus. I owe him that.”

***

“I JUST CAN’T BELIEVE HE’S BEEN LYING TO ME MY WHOLE LIFE!” Harry’s words were punctuated by the sharp crack of wood as he brandished his wand at one of the four-poster beds and reduced it to a three-poster bed.

Draco didn’t say anything, but just pulled out his wand and cast a _Reparo_ at the bed.

“Would you please STOP fixing everything as soon as I break it?!” Harry turned his anger towards the only other person in the room.

Draco gave him what was probably the closest thing to a look of pity and, letting out a sound that was practically a growl, Harry sent a bolt of destructive magic shooting out of his wand that bounced off of the heavy brick wall of their dormitory and hit the window. An alarming cracking sound and a small trickle of water came through before Draco hastily repaired that too.

His look definitely couldn’t be described as pitying now. “You have every right to be angry, but you do not have the right to drown me,” he snapped, before taking a deep breath, eyes closed, and turning a hard-fought-for patience back towards Harry.

Harry tossed his wand onto his bed, not trusting himself with it, and then collapsed down beside Draco on his bed, laying on his back. Draco turned on the spot, bringing one bent leg up onto the bed, and looked down at Harry.

“I just...my _whole_ life is a lie, Draco,” Harry forced out in a low voice, swallowing down the frog in his throat.

“I can’t even imagine what you must be feeling right now. I’m really sorry, Harry. I think they were just trying to do what they thought was best for you.” At Harry’s angry glare, Draco held up his hands in defence and continued, “I’m not saying what they did was right, and I’m certainly not saying that you don’t have every right to be angry with them, but I don’t think they did it to hurt you.”

Harry turned to stare up at the rich, green brocade of the bed canopy. “So what am I supposed to do now? This is so... _weird_. Am I supposed to start calling Professor Snape ‘daddy’ now?” he spat out, contorting his face in disgust at the idea.

Harry had sat in dumb silence as his dad—no, _Remus_ —and Professor Snape had informed him that the man that he’d thought was his father for his entire life actually wasn’t. That his father was actually this man, who was basically a stranger to him.

***

Apparently Remus, Severus, and Lily had been best friends in school, and when they’d graduated, Lily had suggested that they all do some travelling together, a ‘gap year’ to see the world. It was a fairly common occurrence among Muggles and she had talked her two best friends into going on a globe-trotting adventure with her.

They had worked for a few months and earned enough Galleons to keep them going for a while, planning on picking up odd jobs at each new location they had visited. The three friends had been in Egypt exploring the ancient wizarding tombs in the pyramids when the first symptoms had started just after Severus’s 19th birthday.

He tried to hide it from his friends for as long as he could, not wanting to ruin their gap year, but after a few more months the symptoms had become too unmanageable to conceal anymore and Severus had become bedridden in a small town in Canada, on the island of Newfoundland. Severus would sleep for upwards of eighteen hours a day, and Lily and Remus had begun to save up the funds for them to take Severus back to England, fearing the worst.

It was one freezing cold evening, while Remus was working the night shift at a wizarding pub, that Severus had seemed so near to death that Lily had crawled into the bed beside him, wrapping her arms around her friend that, she had realised, she had fallen in love with. Terrified that she was about to lose him after only now realising what he had become to her, she had begged Severus not to leave her and had placed a soft kiss on his lips, tear-stained cheek brushing against his nose.

She had gasped as a shot of vitality had seemed to reanimate Severus and his eyes shot open, pupils dilating as he looked up at her. A pregnant silence stretched between them and then they had both crashed against one another, hands and mouths trailing frantically over skin that was begging for touch.

They had made frantic love, and as soon as they’d finished, they started once more, this time going at a deliberate pace, taking in every curve and dip of the other’s body. The illness that had been threatening to steal Severus away had been vanquished and the two lovers found themselves in the enviable position of being in love with their best friend.

When Remus had arrived home to the rental apartment they were sharing, the three friends embraced and cried and then Severus had sat Lily and Remus down and had shared with them the family secret that he had always been too afraid to tell them: that his family line carries the Incubus gene.

When Severus had started experiencing the symptoms, he knew that he’d been unfortunate and had inherited the gene. Worse, he knew what the alleviation of symptoms when Lily was near him meant: that she could be his mate.

Not wanting to put Lily into an impossible situation, where she would either have to agree to be his mate and share her energy with him or doom him to a slow death, Severus had vowed that he would not share with them what was happening. He didn’t want her because of pity. He wanted her to choose him. He had remained strong for so long, but when the soft heavenly plush of her lips had met his, all of his noble intentions dissolved into dust and he couldn’t help himself. Not only did the infusion of energy flood through his system and make him feel more alive than he had in months, but it had also just felt so _right_ to kiss her. And when he’d opened his eyes to see the raw passion that he knew must be showing on his own face mirrored on hers, there had been no reason to hold back.

The three had continued their journey, moving west across the mainland and learning all they could about the specialised magic of the Americas. They had moved steadily in a Southwest direction, dipping down through Central America and into South America, seeking out the Mystics deep within the Amazon, who knew Magics that remained all but unknown to the rest of the world.

It was in the dense jungles of Brazil that Lily had realised she was pregnant. Remus had been concerned when Lily and Severus had become a couple that he would become nothing more than a third wheel, but they had been careful to ensure that Remus never felt in the way. His presence had proven a godsend when the pregnancy was discovered, as Severus had been overtaken with guilt that he had condemned an innocent child to his affliction. Severus had also become reluctant about syphoning energy from Lily, not wanting to endanger her or the baby in any way, so it wasn’t long before he relapsed into a low-energy malaise, taking only enough energy to ensure that he could remain mobile to be able to take care of Lily.

Remus had been a rock, providing support to both of them during the stressful gestation period. Severus had tried to convince Lily that they should return to England so that she could have the baby there, but Lily had refused, insisting they stay among the Magical tribe they had settled with in the Amazon. Initially suspicious of the white-faced foreigners, they had finally earned the trust of the tribe and she had begun learning how to brew the potions that the tribespeople had been using for centuries directly from the Shaman herself.

Severus, against his better judgement, had agreed, and the three stayed with the tribe as Lily’s belly grew larger. To ease Severus’s concerns, they had worked out a plan to transport Lily to Manaus, the nearest metropolis, to deliver the baby. The old saying about ‘best laid plans’ proved true, and when Lily had gone into labour, their plan had gone up in smoke—literally, as the magazine that they had arranged as a Portkey burst into flames after a flare of uncontrolled magic after a particularly painful contraction had gripped Lily.

While Severus stared at the flaming magazine in horror as it crumbled away, Remus had managed to keep his cool. Always a planner, Remus had learned the birthing techniques that the tribe used and had taken control, casting the Analgesia Charms that would prevent the worst of the pain and preparing for the birth.

Severus knelt behind her and rested her head on his legs, whispering words of encouragement to her and counting down the minutes until the whole thing was over. A deep, pervasive fear had gripped his insides and was shaking him about. Despite the Charms, her face contracted in a rictus of pain at regular, increasing intervals. Severus brushed back her beautiful red hair from her sweating forehead and cast small Cooling Charms over her, not trusting himself to do anything more demanding in his time of stress.

Finally, after a particularly long contraction which had wrenched an animalistic groan from her, all the pain melted from her face as if it had never been there and an angry squall filled the air as their baby let out its first cry. Lily was soaked in sweat and her hair was matted to her head and she was panting with exertion, and Severus had never thought she looked more beautiful.

He couldn’t stop himself from leaning down and kissing her. “You did it. You’re amazing.”

Remus cut the cord and transfigured a soft blanket to wrap the baby in before placing it into Lily’s waiting arms. “You have a son.”

“Really?” Lily asked, a wide smile on her face as she craned her neck back to look up at Severus. “We have a little boy!”

“I can’t believe it,” Severus whispered. He looked at the baby that was bundled up tight and resting on Lily’s chest, his screams still echoing around the small room. Severus was happy that the baby appeared to be healthy, but he couldn’t help the disappointment that it wasn’t a girl, knowing that there was a possibility that his son will have inherited the Incubus genes.

“Severus, take the baby.” Severus looked up in confusion at Remus, whose voice had lost all the happiness and celebration that it had contained only a few minutes ago. Remus’s eyebrows were drawn together in concentration and he was murmuring words under his breath, his wand pointed at the juncture of Lily’s still-spread legs. When Severus didn’t move, merely watching his friend in confusion, Remus barked out the order again, “Sev. Take the baby. Now.”

Severus thought his friend must be overreacting; they’d gotten through the birth and the baby was fine. Humouring him, he reached down to take the baby from Lily and that was when he noticed that her face looked far too pale and her grip on the baby was slack, her arms dropping to her sides with a dull thunk as he lifted the child from her chest.

It took him a few tries to manoeuvre the small baby around, unused as he was to handling infants, so that he had him resting against his chest and he held the small bundle against him, his hand holding the neck steady so that the baby’s head rested against his shoulder. With his other hand, he reached down and tapped Lily’s cheeks a few times, trying to rouse her out of it. Her eyes roved in their sockets, apparently unseeing, and her mouth opened and closed weakly as if she was trying to speak.

“Remus, what’s happening? What’s wrong with her??” Severus’s voice oozed the panic that was gripping his heart. Remus didn’t answer him at first and Severus asked again.

“She’s losing a lot of blood and I’m trying to get it stopped. I’m going to need you to let me work here, Sev,” Remus bit back and Severus left him to it, biting back a million questions that were buzzing around the back of his throat like angry bees, not wanting to do anything that could further jeopardise Lily’s life.

Severus sat there and cupped her face and tried to get her to look at him, whispered to her that he couldn’t do this without her and that he needed her to fight, to fight to stay with him and their son. A soft sound came from her mouth and Severus leaned down, bringing his ear down so that it hovered just over her mouth. “What did you say, Lils? Tell me,” he begged, desperate for just one word, any word.

“Har…..ry.” The name drifted from her lips in two parts, the simple word seeming to take up the last of her energy.

“Harry?” Severus asked, trying to coax her into saying more. She didn’t say anymore though, and he watched as her eyes stopped moving and settled motionless, staring off into nothingness, the life—his life source—draining out of her.

Harry. Her father’s name.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Remus sit back on his heels and lower his wand.

“What are you doing?! You have to help her!” Severus screeched at him, the loud shout startling the baby, who started crying once more.

Remus pushed the hair back from his forehead with his forearm, his hands dyed a bright crimson red up to the wrists. Severus looked away, willfully ignoring the sight. “I’m sorry, Sev...There’s nothing more that I can do.”

Harry was screaming into his ear and, without thinking, he lowered the baby so that he was resting across both arms and started rocking him back and forth. The gentle side-to-side motion seemed to work and gradually the crying dwindled away until the only sounds were the wild sounds of the jungle from just outside the door.

Severus didn’t know how long they sat there, but eventually, he lowered his head and placed a kiss on Harry’s forehead, his head already covered with a soft, downy covering of black hair. Severus wished it was the beautiful red colour of his mother and not his own. That hair was too beautiful to just...not exist anymore.

“Remus, take the baby,” Severus’s tone was flat, devoid of emotion, and Remus looked at him with concern.

“I don—” Remus began to protest, but Severus cut him off.

“Take Harry. Watch him for me.”

Remus cast Cleaning Charms on his hands, washing away the blood, and Severus felt a flare of anger at the action. One small part of Lily disappearing as if inconsequential. How many more of those before it would be like she’d never existed at all?

Severus passed the baby to Remus without looking at it, and then tenderly lifted Lily’s head from his lap before shifting back and setting it down gently on the ground. Without looking at Remus, he picked up his wand and cast a Patronus—after several unsuccessful attempts, he finally managed to conjure his corporeal dove form—and sent it off to the Brazilian Ministry of Magic.

He filled a small basin with water which he then warmed with a charm and then proceeded to carefully wash away all of the blood from her body. He knew he could just use a charm to clean her body, but he had felt a compulsion to do this manually, paying a final tribute to the woman that he had loved and that had saved his life.

Remus didn’t say anything, just watched Severus as he cleansed her pale skin with long, slow strokes. There was nothing he could do with her loose-fitting maxi dress besides cast a Cleaning Charm on it. When he was done, he settled her legs down and her arms across her now-empty belly. She looked as if she could just be sleeping.

Remus tried to give Harry back to Severus, but the man kept refusing, only able to cast fleeting looks at the small infant, who was sucking on his tiny fist. After what felt like hours, officials from the Ministry arrived and the baby was handed over to the care of a wet nurse for a feeding. Between them, they answered all the Ministry’s questions, explaining how the Portkey that they had arranged had failed and they’d had to act quickly. Severus had kneeled at Lily’s side, studying her face while Remus told them about the haemorrhage and how none of the spells he tried seemed to stem the flow of blood.

A death certificate was issued and Lily James Evans ceased to exist.

When the Ministry witches and wizards had turned their attention towards the baby, Severus had stood up and taken them outside, asking Remus to watch over Lily’s body. When Severus had returned, he tucked the birth certificate into his robes and had informed Remus that the Ministry had agreed to let him bury Lily’s body here in the jungle that she had loved.

Remus took care of Harry, the wet nurse having left them with a supply of breast milk, while Severus dug the grave. He didn’t use magic, using a conjured shovel and the precious energy that Lily had given him to clear a hole in the moist soil. He rested her body in it and laid down beside her, wanting nothing more than to go with her. He wasn’t sure how long he had laid there, but the urge to live had proven stronger and he had climbed out of the grave and, before he could reconsider, had covered his first mate with the displaced soil using his wand.

He stood staring down at the fresh grave for a few minutes, saying his last goodbyes, and then he did a final swirl of his wand and a single, pure white lily rose from the far end.

It was dark, night having settled in around him, when he returned to the small hut that had been their home for the past five months. Remus was sleeping on his side on his bed under a white, billowy mosquito net, his body curled protectively around the small baby, whose legs were kicking in the air. Severus crept over to that side of the room and looked down at the two: his best friend and his son. Harry’s eyes were open and the pale blue orbs were staring up at him, curious. Severus hoped that his eyes, at least, would take on Lily’s fresh, green colour.

He wouldn’t be here to find out.

Severus had taken one last look at the tiny baby, the miracle mixture of he and Lily, the brightest and most luminous woman he had ever known, and then he walked over to the small, spartan desk in the corner, ripped out a piece of paper from his travel journal, and had begun to write.

  


_Dear Remus,_

_I know that you may never forgive me for this, and I doubt you will understand, but I know that you will do the right thing and take care of Harry. Not for me, but for Lily. I considered simply ending my life last night, but I am weak, and I want to live. Even if I have to do it without her._

_My time is very short. There are very few people that can act as a mate for me, whose energy frequency is aligned to be able to sustain me. The chances are poor that I will even be able to find someone before my time runs out, but I have to try._

_I know you will argue that I should take Harry with me, that you would come with me, but I can’t do that to you. And, I will admit, I can’t do that to myself. It will be too hard to accept my death if I should fail if Harry is there with me. I need to do this alone._

_Please, Remus, take Harry back to England and give him the life that he deserves. Be the father to him that he needs._

_Love,_

_Severus_

  


He had left the birth certificate under the letter. Harry Evans Lupin, son of Lily James Evans and Remus John Lupin.

Remus had awoken to Harry’s piercing cries and the documentation proclaiming him a father.

Severus had just been checked into a Muggle hospital in New York City, having collapsed on a street corner. His energy had been leaking away for months, leaving him weaker and making each city he visited that much more overwhelming. New York City was his last chance.

He had been drifting in and out of consciousness for what may have been several hours or several days. Time seemed like an ephemeral concept now, always teasing and then flitting away, just out of grasp. The patient in the next bed started another long, hacking cough, apparently attempting to evacuate his lungs from his body and Severus could feel another blanket of foggy sleep pull over him when a remarkable voice drifted in through the door.

“Justine, don’t even think about making me bathe that old coot in 372 again. His entire body smells like alligator breath.”

An exasperated voice, which must belong to Justine, came next, “There’s a John Doe in 394 that’s one step short of being comatose. Why don’t you go keep him company?”

“I don’t appreciate your tone, Justine,” the first voice stretched the name into a sibilant sound. “But as I haven’t read the latest Cosmo article, ‘Crotch Crisis: Five Things You Should Know Before You Go Downtown’, I’ll be with 203.”

Severus watched as a tall, bald black man entered the room and beelined straight for Severus’s bed, settling himself in the pistachio-coloured plastic chair and, after a few seconds of strained adjustment, and one foot hooked behind the chair leg, crossed his legs. He didn’t spare a glance in Severus’s direction and flipped the magazine open, lifting it to be in front of his face.

Severus turned his head to face the man and watched him for a bit as “mmmms” and “ahhhhs” came from behind the magazine.

“Could—water?” Severus croaked out, his voice raw from disuse.

The man jumped and tossed the magazine in the air. “What are you? A ninja! Don’t sneak up on someone like that!”

Despite his weakened state, Severus could feel the small smile pull at his dry, cracked lips. Titus stood up after a little wiggling, his butt getting temporarily stuck under the armrests, and walked over to the bedside table, where there was a cream-coloured plastic jug filled with water and a short, plastic glass with a bendy straw in it. He poured a glass of water and Severus watched, amused, as Titus brought the straw to his lips and drank down the whole glass, before pouring a second one and holding the straw to Severus’s lips.

Severus, having experienced the sensation once, easily identified it this time: he had found a potential mate.

***

Harry had listened to the entire story, not saying a word, while Draco cast nervous glances to his friend. Draco had listened silently while the two former friends relayed their story, not wanting to intrude on this pivotal moment for Harry, until Professor Snape had shared his belief that Draco, like Lily, was a potential mate for Harry. Then he had peppered Snape with questions, which Snape had done his best to answer, until Harry finally snapped and protested that he couldn’t take anymore right now and had asked Remus and Severus to give him some time alone.

Obviously that request for solitude didn’t include Draco though, and against Madam Pomfrey’s objections, Draco had led Harry back to the Slytherin dormitory. The fact that Harry seemed to improve by leaps and bounds with every minute he spent in physical closeness to Draco seemed to support Snape’s theory that Harry was in need of a mate’s energy to keep him alive, and that Draco was a match.

“I don’t understand why he never came back. After he found Professor Andromedon and he knew that he was going to live. Why didn’t he come back?” Harry’s question belied the insecurity he was feeling.

“You heard what he said: it took him several years to find his new mate and then to explain the situation to him. I’m sure that, as a Muggle, the whole thing must have been even more difficult to accept. And by the time Titus had agreed to become his mate, he didn’t want to disrupt the only family you’d ever known. He didn’t abandon you entirely; your dad was keeping him up-to-date with your life. It’s not like he couldn’t even be bothered to check in on you. And, remember, he _did_ come back. He’s here now. He wanted to make sure he was here to answer all of your questions and support you if you did happen to inherit the Incubus gene. He cares about you enough that he and his partner moved across the ocean to be here _just in case_ you needed him.”

“But then why didn’t da—Rem—ugh, dad, tell me then?” Harry rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands before bringing his fists down on the bed beside him.

“Because he loves you and he didn’t want you to feel like you’d been abandoned.” Draco shrugged. “I know it’s probably not a satisfying answer, but sometimes we do things we don’t want to in order to protect the ones we love from harm.”

Harry drilled Draco with a penetrating stare and then turned his head in the opposite direction. “I wouldn’t ask you to do...that...for me,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Oh, you’ll just waste away in a slow and painful death and leave me with the guilt of knowing that I could have saved your life and fulfilled one of my most common fantasies all in one fell swoop all because you’re too much of a coward to _ask_ me what I want? Gee, thanks Lupin. How very considerate of you!”

“I’m not a cow—wait...I’m your most common fantasy?” Harry asked as his head whipped around. Draco had swung back around and was sitting stiffly on the edge of the bed, his back to Harry.

“Compared to the Malfoy fortune, practically everyone is common,” Draco grumbled.

Harry sat up and rested one hand on Draco’s shoulder, trying to get him to turn back around. Finally, he relented and Harry took a deep fortifying breath—it was at times like this that he almost wished he hadn’t begged the Sorting Hat to put him in Slytherin because he could use a little of that Gryffindor courage right now. “Draco, you’re the best friend that I’ve ever had and I swear that even if this weren’t a literal matter of life and death I would still want to ask you this. Can I kiss you?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s about time. I was starting to think you’d never ask.”

Draco turned his upper body towards Harry and leaned forward, guiding their lips together. The kiss was soft and sort of tentative, but it was perfect and everything Harry had imagined it would be. His veins seemed to fizzle with the pure infusion of energy, despite the relative chastity of the kiss.

“But I still expect you to court me. I’m not going to hop into bed with you just because you can play the Incubus card,” Draco smirked as he pulled back from their kiss. He didn’t go far though and he teased his fingers through the hair at the base of Harry’s neck.

Harry still had a lot to work through to process everything he’d learned today, but with Draco by his side, he had the time to do it.

***

“How can the air be this _moist_? You shouldn’t be able to drink air!” Draco complained as he lifted his t-shirt up to wipe the sweat off of his face.

Harry laughed at his boyfriend. Ever since their plane had landed in Manaus (Titus had flat-out refused to use a Portkey, proclaiming that, “only a crazy person would want to experience their entire body squeezing through their own butthole when they could be drinking champagne in business class!”), Draco had looked like someone had hit him with an out-of-control Heating Charm.

Personally, Harry liked the way his skin glistened with sweat—and the taste when he licked it off.

“Oh, sweetie, this isn’t so bad,” Titus said as he waved a paper fan in front of his face while Severus held back the foliage for him. “Summers in Mississippi we used to just bury ourselves in mud to cool down. Little known fact that the mud bath actually originated in Mississippi.”

Draco looked like he was about to contradict their former Professor, but decided there was no point. Over the past six months, they’d learned to take everything the eccentric man claimed with a rather large grain of salt.

“We should just about be there,” Remus promised them from the front of their small hiking group, consulting his map and casting another Compass Charm. “Yes, just another kilometre or so.”

Draco groaned and Harry took his hand, giving it a squeeze while casting a Cooling Charm at Draco with his other. Draco sighed happily and interlocked his fingers with Harry’s.

Fifteen minutes later and Remus came to an abrupt halt, Harry almost running into him from behind. “This is it.”

They all looked around, there were a few dilapidated structures that were all that remained of the tribe’s camp, the jungle having worked hard to reclaim the land in the intervening years.

Titus leaned in and whispered something to Severus that the others couldn’t hear and Severus nodded, leaned in to give Titus a quick kiss, and then stepped forward. “It’s over this way.”

They continued further into the jungle for a hundred meters or so and then Severus came to a halt. Harry looked around the jungle, thinking that there wasn’t anything inherently special about this place—it could be mistaken for any other stretch of jungle that they had hiked through—but knowing that his mother had been here, had walked amongst these trees, made it feel sacred.

“Are you sure this is the place?” Remus asked, sounding uncertain. His eyes scanned the forest floor, which was covered in dense foliage.

Severus didn’t say anything, but pulled out his wand and cast a wordless spell, sending the forest detritus scurrying away until there was a patch of forest floor that was cleared off. Another flick of his wand and a single white lily grew up from the ground in an accelerated version of its normal life cycle.

Each man took their turn stepping forward and placing a bouquet of conjured flowers down on the grave. Titus, going last, waved off the bouquet of lilies that Severus had conjured for him and, clearing his throat, broke into an a capella version of “Time of My Life”. They all stood around in surprise for a few moments and then, almost at the same time, they all broke out into poorly suppressed giggles until Titus scowled at them.

They stood there while Titus delivered a soulful rendition of the song that they’d all become familiar with since Titus had made them all watch Dirty Dancing at least a dozen times, smiling at one another. Remus reached out and pulled his old friend into a hug. Though he still hadn’t completely forgiven Severus, he was trying.

Pulling apart, they both stepped up behind Harry and placed a hand on each of his shoulders. Lily would never be forgotten as long as they lived.

 


End file.
